


Masked

by jenguin



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: I'm a bit bad at tagging, Louis' inner voice, Louis' journey thus far, M/M, louis loves harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 12:29:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2693015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenguin/pseuds/jenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A free-form poem from Louis' point of view about the process of him being "trained" in the media.  It's all very .... melancholy really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masked

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I know poetry is a very personal thing and that what seems heartfelt to one person is just utter rubbish to someone else, so I apologise if it is the latter :)

My mask was built, slowly,  
to cover up.  
“You’re just a bit … too much!”  
Too cheeky? Childish? Foul mouthed?  
“You have a role to play or you’re out!”  
“...AND he can’t sing for shit!”

It made some sense at the time.  
Keep the public persona and private person,  
separate.  
But.  
When did  
one  
become right  
and the  
other  
become WRONG?

Too much “this” and not enough “that”.  
The only solution, to cover  
everything  
I  
am.

“Great to just sit and admire what he’s like”.  
But not everyone does.  
Some just see “embarrassing”,  
“threatening”,  
“gay” (like a disease),  
money going down the drain.

All I see is  
Love,  
caged.  
Lighthouse eyes, hooded with doubt and sadness.  
His wide cheshire grin  
pinched and pursed.  
Dimples as rare as eclipses  
in public. 

The mask weighs heavily now.  
A dark shadow on all of us.  
Where once were brothers  
having fun and loving life,  
Now are protectors, buffers,  
knights.

What would I do without them?  
And yet  
without them  
would I need the mask?  
Would freedom and anonymity be preferable?  
My world without music  
my lads  
without the pinkest lips I’ve ever seen?

Danger.  
In words written and sung.  
Words spoken and omitted.  
In inked lines on our skin.  
(I WILL protect my rose, guide my ship)  
They don’t know  
The strength that lies underneath  
the mask.  
Anchored to my star.

The mask pinches and itches.  
Garish and mocking.  
Cracking.  
No amount of glitter and colour,  
can make up for  
what it’s leaching from my soul.  
(and his)

Bare and exposed underneath.  
Raw, real, unpolished.  
I’m not sure I know  
who  
I  
am  
anymore.  
But I’m willing to find out  
If he’s by my side.

 

My mask is slipping  
Will anyone like what’s underneath?


End file.
